


Keep The Evenings Long

by gcldcnhour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flashbacks, Friendship, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gcldcnhour/pseuds/gcldcnhour
Summary: Sybill Trelawney takes a moment to reflect, only to find comfort with an unexpected friend.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Keep The Evenings Long

**Author's Note:**

> Something new I'm trying! Written for the HPFF Winter Writing Challenge II.

She had been seven when Sybill had her first vision. Prior to this they had just been vivid dreams that she would babble about over breakfast, her parents brushing them off without a second thought. Their child had an active imagination, and accidental magic manifested in many ways. No one wanted her to inherit her great-great-grandmother’s gift. No one believed she could.

That day was burned into her memory. Well, the aftermath of it was. She couldn’t remember the actual vision or what she did during it, but her parents behavior changed drastically. It had been a normal day, Sybill was doing her normal Sybill duties, making outfits for the mice that lived in the attic. Her parents had always supported her quirks, finding that adhering to the normal qualms of the wizard parenting to be quite dreadful and deciding that a more lackadaisical approach was much more effective. They had heard that advice from a muggle parenting column once and it stuck with them. 

On this afternoon she was fastening a mini hat when her body suddenly seized up, eyes almost rolling back into her head. Her mother screamed for her father when a voice that wasn’t hers left her body stating the following nonsense: 

_ “Only one will thrive into old age, the other will lose their mind to the unknown. They will never find love again even in the depths of all madness.”  _

If only her parents had taken that advice seriously, instead of working to stifle her gift. Maybe she would still have them in her own adulthood. 

She was fifteen when she had another vision, this time in front of her friends at Hogwarts. Her fingers gripped the arm of her best friend, eyes locked in a trance: 

_ “Death will come quickly for three, a silent ghost in the shadows. You cannot out run him, for he will only move faster if you try.”  _

They all laughed it off to her weirdness, attempting to revive her great-great grandmother’s legacy. Sybill went along with this, remembering the words and threats of her parents. She didn’t have the gift, just the dramatics.

Her next vision became the most consequential, and no one in her family was around to know. No one but Dumbledore to believe her. 

Sybill sat in the oversized chair, her hand shaking as she brought the tea cup to her lips. So much of her life was spent faking, cutting the corners to pass by, to make others think what they wanted about her. From concealing her true gift at a young age, to faking the gift for hopes of employment, to now hiding in her classroom in hopes of living up to those expectations. 

She sipped carefully, considering how things might have come to fruition had her parents heeded her first vision. Now she sat alone, staring into the fire, wondering if there was a way she could predict her own death. She seemed to predict everyone else’s, why not her own? 

Maybe it would be in the crystal ball, or the tea leaves. Maybe she should venture back into the forest to find Firenze and the centaurs. Maybe this time she could persuade them to tell her of their predictions. But alas, it all seemed fruitless. She was not destined to know. 

With a small sigh, Sybill gazed into the tea leaves, noting that they gave her no new information today, just to keep believing. 

The theatrics were, in part, a necessary curation and another of her own quirks. Strip her of everything she projected, to make her seem like a fraud in her youth at the command of her parents, now lingered with her reputation as she attempted to reconcile those beliefs - to showcase that she was a direct descendant of Cassandra Trelawney. Dumbledore believed her, Snape had believed her, Firenze and for some reason so did Minerva. 

Yet Sybill was still as lonely as ever. Perhaps it was time to leave her hideout, as long as she heeded the signs, and find a freshness to who she was. 

As she descended the ladder, the portraits seemed amazed, calling out to her, asking for their own death predictions, or what the stars might tell them. She only smiled politely and quickly moved on, not having time to see their futures. The castle was empty at this time, a relief to her.

She wandered the halls silently, noting the preparations for the arrival of students. Maybe that was what she was missing, the students. 

A light that casted across the grounds from the hut at the edge of the property caught her attention through the window. It seemed she wasn’t the only one awake at this time. 

“Sybill?” Rubeus stood confused to find her standing there, hands held close to her chest. It was all unfamiliar, but comforting in the same thought, to gaze up at his large figure in the doorway of his home. 

“Rubeus. My friend.” She smiled, voice shaking as she took in the vaguely familiar surroundings. “May I, may I come in?” Her finger pointed to the space behind him. He nodded, still bewildered by her presence. It seemed like the friendly thing to do. 

“Ah, what ‘an I do fer ya?” He sighed, gesturing to the bench for her to sit as he settled in his chair. It was too small and quite stuffy in the cramped space, adjectives others often used to describe her classroom and quarters as well. 

“Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep and took a walk around the grounds to center myself. I noticed you were awake and wondered if you perhaps had any tea?” Maybe he would indulge her just enough to let her read his leaves. 

“Erm, I reckon I could put er pot on,” he sighed, shuffling over to the fire to stoke it, “I’ve got some nice ole whiskey I jus’ opened.” 

She had never been much of a drinker, in her youth it clouded her mind in a way that made her fear for her gift, that a vision could strike her and connect her with her ancestry in the one moment she was not sober. The few times she found herself drunk, secrets and dreams spilled out of her lips, creating more fuel for those to hurl insults at her, to disbelieve in her. 

“Oh I, uhm.” She paused, Rubeus placed the pot over the fire and looked at her. 

“I haven’t drank in so long, though a small sip shouldn’t be too much trouble.” With a smile and small grunt, he reappeared with a teacup for her and a large mug for him. 

There was a softening around her, around him. They shared stories of their childhoods, their youth as outcasts. What had started as a lonely night, a trip of regret and disdain down memory lane, turned around with some unexpected company. 

“ ‘Ow come ‘ou’ve never visited ‘fore Sybill?” Rubeus posed the question, his words starting to slur. 

“Well, I usually only come down to cleanse my space. Though the aura of your hut was fascinating, it’s usually suffocating for my sight.” Now it felt comforting. He made no evident response. 

“It seems people only want to visit me when I am crystal gazing. They must be pulled to know their own futures.” Everyone wanted to know what life and fate had planned for them, of course the temptation to know would lure them to her place during her most intimate and meaningful hours. 

A moment later Rubeus had fallen asleep, still upright in his chair. Sybill quietly tucked her cup away and slipped out the door. Dreams were important to stay in tune with, and she did not wish to disturb him. 

The air was cooler than it had been on her walk down, but she welcomed the refreshing breeze, soon the corridors would be overrun with students, clouding all her senses. She would have to retreat back to her space, making sure to keep it cleansed between classes. There would be a student or two who would show real promise, a few more with a bit of interest. Sybil wasn’t entirely ignorant to what others thought of her, what they whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear. But it didn’t matter really, she knew what the truth was. 

Ever since she had been hired at Hogwarts, that her gift was revealed to be true and she had someone to believe in her, there was an immense amount of relief that she hadn’t been aware she was looking for. There was no need to pretend that she had the gift, because she did. No more getting by just by her last name, but perhaps there was a bit of respect to who she was. It didn’t matter what others thought, it was only the truth she was after. 

The stairs up to her space always felt like she was floating, the energy pulling her back home to welcome her. The edges were blurred, but in the soft comforting way of impending sleep. Maybe she should make visits to see Rubeus more often, or perhaps to give her room space to revive itself without her. Either way, Sybill hadn’t felt this comforted in years. 

Something in the walls told her there would come a time very few of them would find comfort in this space. That dread would fill them and doom would come for them all. She had felt it for years, but for the night she decided not to lose herself to it. No, she would accept the colors and warmth that was offered for her. It would be fleeting, times were changing anyone would know this. But for now, she had her space, Rubeus had his dreams, and Hogwarts was home to all. 

For the night there was relief. 


End file.
